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[artemultisciusbarbaroi]

Good evening,

it is 4:12 as of now. Perhaps I should say good morning, then.

To be completely honest, it is not necessarily good. Not good, not great, not amazing. Just evening. Or morning. Or whatever. It does not matter, because it is not good. It is average if not below average, so there is no need to discuss it any further.

Well, the greater mystery is – what am I doing right now? Thinking, ranting, writing, existing and denying the existence of any goodness in this time of the day.

Anyway.

I own a typewriter and I love it. I love how it sounds, how it feels under my fingers and how each letter imprints on the paper. Sure, it is old and the ink is spotty in places, but it only adds character.

I do love my typewriter. I really do. So why am I not using it to write my thoughts? Sadly, the walls here are thin and the neighbors complained that the click-clacking is too loud. I cannot fathom how the lovely clicking can bother someone.

Actually, I get it. The need to write always appears at night. Others sleep, I click-clack, apparently.

How dare they complain about the lovely music I create from the disturbances of my own thoughts? My click-clacking cannot be silenced. Or, well, it can. I do not want to make any enemies here. So instead of using my sweet typewriter, I am click-clacking on this keyboard. Modern times require adaptation.

I am very well adapted to technology. I would like to be more technologically inept, actually. I bet it would feel wonderful to say – Oh, I cannot understand smartphones, I must have been born in the wrong century.

Truth be told, I was born in the twenty-first century and I do not hate it. Of course, it is nice to romanticize the old times, but living through them is a totally different thing. Or I assume. I have not lived through them, so I cannot say for sure. I can merely speculate.

Thirty-five minutes passed since I started click-clacking. Or just clicking.

I need to get back to studying. My thoughts cannot be silenced unlike my typewriter. However, the bachelor’s degree will not wait for my inner peace.

Goodbye for now,

Y.